Date: Mon, 29 Jul 2013 04:24:42 -0700
From: dakota phillips
Subject: Butterfly
The following story is completely fictional. Any resemblance to any person
or place is purely coincidental. The story contains graphic depictions of
boys under the age of eighteen engaging in sexual activities.
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Butterfly ... a Love Story in Five Parts
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(1)
My name is Tyler and I am fourteen years old. I will be going into high
school this year. Along with the fears common to all middle school boys
becoming freshmen, I had more on my plate than most. You see, ever since I
was younger, I have always been attracted to boys. I don't know why, I can
offer no explanation. I don't ever remember waking up and saying to myself
that I now wanted dick instead of pussy. It just has always been this way
as long as I can remember.
In all truth, I do remember being flirtatious with girls. A lot of girls
in elementary school liked me. I remember receiving 'love' notes and even
'going steady.' But, even so, I was never really committed to a girl-boy
relationship. During the one time I kissed a girl (a girl named Alyssa
when we were in the fourth grade) behind the portables, I don't remember
'fireworks' going off or anything like that. I was really disappointed in
myself and the expectation I had.
During my middle school years I was somewhat an introvert sexually. I had
plenty of friends, both boys and girls. But I never pursued a girl like my
male friends did. Instead, the girls I knew were friends, nothing more.
Shit, I don't ever remember staring at their budding tits, wanting to see
them naked. But I do remember staring at male classmates and wondering
what they looked like naked. Even more than that, to be held in their arms.
Starting puberty in the seventh grade, I learned how to fap from my friend
Michael. He had a computer and one day after school I went over his house.
We were going to play online games, but instead he brought up various porn
sites he frequented. As he scrolled through the pictures, My eyes often
would remain on the young men and especially their junk, while he commented
on the women's huge titties and hairy pussies.
He suggested we relieve ourselves. I had never fapped before this. So I,
playing it cool, followed his lead. He pulled his pants and boxers down to
his knees, wrapping his hand around his dick. His dick. This was the
first boy's dick I had seen (beside my own, duh). It was hard and looked
to be about five inches -- a little shorter than my own. It had a little
bush of hair at the base. It was, what I would come to understand,
circumcised -- like mine.
He started stroking his dick up and down. I pushed my shorts and boxers
down and did what he was doing. He glanced over at my dick and
complimented the size. When I later measured it, I learned it was 6.5". I
had less hair around my dick, having just started puberty. We both stood
in front of his computer sliding our hands up and down the length of our
dicks. I admit, my excitement grew from watching him fap.
Needless to say, he caught me staring at him and was not all to delighted.
Pulling up his shorts, he called me a few choice words and ordered me out
of his house. I was humiliated and afraid. I went home and just wanted to
cry. I remember staying in my room that night, not eating dinner, not
watching television or talking with parents. I just wanted to be alone.
I was greeted the next day by the jeers of some of my fellow classmates.
Michael had told a few of his friends that I was gay. He didn't say how
he knew, only that he knew. I became a laughing stock over the next few
days, the butt of "gay" bashing -- middle school style. This, thankfully,
quieted down after a few weeks, coming up only when someone was wanting to
be mean. I was able to keep some of my friends, some of the more
open-minded ones, mostly girls.
During middle school I did 'experiment' with a few boys who didn't know me,
didn't care, or were new to the school. There wasn't many ... only three
(two six graders and an eighth grader). None of them were what I would
call a homosexual experience as much as it was boyhood experimenting, which
was fine with me. The most any of us did was fap together or an 'i'll
show you mine, if you show me yours' encounter. One boy (the eighth
grader) let me give him a blowjob in the boy's locker room after school.
All of these experiences cemented firmly that I was gay, but I knew I
would have to keep it under wraps.
So, now, I am beginning high school. The first few weeks went by without
incident. My class schedule wasn't too bad. I really like school and
excel in many subjects, especially math. I also had drama and creative
writing, which I was excited about. Most of my classes had at least two or
three really hot boys. I would often position my desk so that I could look
at them without being noticed.
The best part of my schedule was that Conner was in my math class. He was
not a freshman, but was in the class as a remedial study since he failed it
last year. Conner Hunt was this sophomore's name. He was so cute. I'll
describe him in more detail in a bit. Conner was on the junior varsity
football team, and really good, scoring many times in a game. This drove
his popularity through the roof. He had a really cute girlfriend and, many
say, was sexually active with her.
One weekend I was invited by one of my girlfriends to a party being given
by a guy who was a junior, I think he was her boyfriend. This was the
first party I had been invited to, beyond some birthday parties when I was
much younger. I thought it would be fun and accepted the offer. The night
arrived and I was a bit late getting to her house. When I entered, the
party was in full swing. People were laughing, talking, dancing ... having
a good time.
That's when I saw him, Conner Hunt. As I said, he was on the high school
junior varsity football team and was a sophomore. He had dark, shaggy
hair and dark eyes. He was about 5'7" and looked to be 130 pounds, maybe
less. His build was average. He was talking with a few girls. He was
wearing his letterman jacket (which he always wore). He looked really
sexy. I think a few of my female friends suspected that I had a secret boy
crush on him.
At around ten o'clock, the hostess called everyone together for a game of
truth-or-dare. This game would be a little different, however. Whatever
you took, truth or dare, it would be already thought up and written on a
piece of paper in a jar and withdrawn randomly. Everyone seemed to be up
for this.
As the game started, the first girl asked for truth. Amanda, the hostess,
reached freely into the jar and asked the girl her bra size. The group
giggled and spoke under their breath. The girl's cheeks flushed a little.
After a pause, she told the group the size. The group laughed with glee,
jibing her, a few asking her to prove it.
The next boy asked for a dare. As Amanda reached into the jar, Conner and
his girlfriend, Ceslee, walked into the circle. As they arrived, Conner
walked right next to me. Amanda gave Ceslee a knowing look and then went
on to read the boy's dare. He had to show his dick to the onlookers for
ten seconds. The crowd went wild with laughter and teasing. He quickly
unbuttoned his pants and slid them just below his balls as he swung his
dick to the group. I looked, as everyone else was looking. The boy a
junior and flapped a four inch dick beneath a pretty large bush of hair.
He quickly pulled up his pants.
As the crowd quieted a little, Amanda pointed to Conner. It was his turn.
He asked for a dare. I'm not sure, but when Amanda reached into the jar
it appeared as though she reached for a particular slip. Pulling it out,
she smiled knowingly. She then read his dare.
"You have to," she said, drawing out the last two words, "kiss the person
next to you." Conner smiled and turned to his girlfriend next to him. He
was moving in to kiss her when Amanda interrupted. "Oh, wait. It says ...
to kiss the person on your left!"
With this the group broke out into a mocking laughter, especially his
girlfriend. Conner looked at his girlfriend and then at me. He knew what
everyone knew. He looked back at his girlfriend and then the hostess.
Turning back to me, I gave him a slight smile. His face contorted with
disgust. He pushed me to the ground violently.
"I," he yelled to Amanda, his girlfriend, the group. "I ain't ... I ain't
no faggot! This ain't funny!"
Conner stormed out of the house. The group continued laughing, but at me
now. Had I been set up? Was this planned? I was humiliated. And I knew
that Conner had been humiliated also. I wasn't sure why the group,
especially his girlfriend, would do this to him.
I ran out of the house, slamming the door behind me. I walked up the
sidewalk, my head slouched, and happened to pass Michael and his friends
going, I guess, to the party.
"'Sup, fag?" he taunted, noticing my distress. "Must be that time of month
for him."
"Fuck you!" I said, sick of the teasing, the jokes.
"Hey, dude ... no way. You don't talk to me like that!"
Michael turned and took me by the scruff. He punched me in the face and
then in the stomach. I buckled over, holding the pain, my tears, blood
streaming from my nose. Michael was about to kick me in the face, when he
was suddenly swung around. I heard a thump and saw him fall to the ground.
A foot kicked him in the side as he jumped up blurting apologies and
fumbled his way to the party, avoiding me.
I looked up to see it was Conner. I was totally confused. He came over
next to me and handed me a napkin from his pocket. I held it to my nose to
stop the bleeding. He watched over my back to make sure Michael and his
friends had gone. I looked at Conner, not understanding. Tears began
rolling from my eyes. Shit, I didn't want to seem weak.
"Why?" I asked quietly.
"I ain't gay! I ain't gay!" he said, as if trying to convince me, maybe
himself. "But, I ain't gonna stand by and watch someone get the shit beat
out of them because they are."
"Well," I said, "thank you."
"You gotta learn to fight or something. This looks like it's gonna happen
a lot. And, I won't always be around," he instructed, pausing. "Let me
get you home."
There was silence between us. Conner had his hands stuck in his jacket. I
walked slowly at first, the pain still ripped through my abdomen. He
started up the conversation as we walked.
"You got a name?" he asked.
"Tyler," I said. "Tyler Andrews. I'm a freshman this year."
"Conner," he replied. "You're in high school now. A little different than
middle school."
"I'm learning that."
Unbearable silence walked between us. A gentle breeze rustled the leaves
on the branches that stretched out over the sidewalk. The moon was about
half full, offering a little light, Street lights dimly spotted the road.
Conner cleared his throat a few times.
"So," he hesitated. "Is being gay like ... I dunno ... like you want to be
a girl or something?"
"No," I began, "nothing like that. I just like being with boys better than
being with girls. I have never thought of being a girl. I ... can't
explain it."
"That just sounds weird to me."
"Things we don't understand usually are weird."
"True," he agreed. Silence. "I mean ... do you even think about girls?"
"Not like you do," I said. "I think of them more as friends. There is
nothing really sexual to it."
"You ever try being with a girl?" he asked.
"I tried, but never really had the desire. It would be forced, which would
be unfair to them" I paused, thinking. "You ever want to be with your
mom?"
"What?"
"I'm not trying to be sarcastic," I defended. "But I am sure never have.
But you could be. It's the same way I think of girls. They are more like
companions to me. I just feel more comfortable with boys."
"Hmm," was all Conner replied.
"Like," I continued, "I have never opened up to any of my girlfriends like
have with you tonight."
"Yeah, well ..."
We reached my house. Conner patted me on the back. He had a strange look
on his face. I thanked him again. He shrugged and was about to turn to
walk back down the street. I called to him and asked if I could give him a
friendly hug.
"Can't you just shake my hand?" he asked. "Yeah, okay, whatever."
He looked around, I think making sure no one would see me hugging him. I
moved forward and put my arms around his waist and hugged him. I rested my
head on his chest. His arms at first hung freely to his sides. He may
have been a bit confused, but then he hugged me gently. He broke it apart
quickly, saying goodnight as he turned and walked away.
"Sorry," I called out.
"About what?" he asked, turning a little, but still walking away.
"About what happened ... at the party. Why would ... " then I stopped.
"We were planning on breaking up anyway. Guess it sealed the deal. No big
thing," he added in a tone of protectiveness.
I smiled softly and went into my house. My mom was very upset when she saw
my face. Being a mom, she cleaned me up and sent me to bed to rest. I
didn't give full details of what happened. I didn't want her to call any
parents and complain. I closed my eyes and remembered the feeling of being
in Conner's arms.
((2))
Classes were in full swing. I was loaded down every day with piles of
homework. This was certainly not what middle school was like. But I
didn't mind. I usually completed my work quickly. This would lead to my
daily ritual ... fapping. Hey, I am a teenager ... so, I love to play with
myself!
I made sure the door was locked and then went to bookmarked sites on my
computer. I often tried to find sites with boys my age, but knew that was
not likely. I did stumble across blog sites where particular blogs had
nude under aged boys posted. These types of blogs usually didn't last long
so I would copy the pictures to a desktop file as soon as I found them. I
had a nice little collection.
Online, I would usually settle for 'twink' sites. I would then get
undressed and with spit in hand stroke my 6.5". I liked to stand in the
full-length mirror and look over my naked body. I stand about 5'7", weigh
just around 120 pounds. I have pretty fair skin; not pasty, but not
tanned. I have light brown hair that is really wavy (not curly) and I wear
it kind of long (over my ears and to my shoulders. I have a few freckles
that dot the bridge of my nose. My eyes are greenish. My dick, as I said,
is a slender 6.5" and when erect stands horizontal to the floor. My bush
is just coming in, so is pretty small.
As I fap, I like to take long strokes from the base of my dick to the head.
I always end up laying on the floor, with a marker or some other round
object to insert in my ass. I have used different things, based on
availability ... a carrot, a marker, a candle, the plastic handle of a
plunger, and my fingers, of course. While I fapped I would fantasize about
some boy in one of my classes and imagine the object was his dick inside
me. I found out earlier on that my nut would be so much more intense when
I had something in my butt. Well, and it felt good!
Most of the days lately, while fapping and running an object in and out of
my hole, I would think of Conner. In my fantasy we would make out, kissing
each other heavily, our dicks pressing against each other, our hands
exploring each other's body. I would next picture him making love to me.
That's about as far as I would get before nutting. I always clean up by
scooping up my cum and licking it from my fingers.
On this particular day the phone rang as I was pulling on my pants. I went
and answered the phone. It was Paige, one of Conner's friends who likes me
also. Her voice seemed desperate.
"Hey, Tyler," Paige said.
"Hey," I said. "What's up?"
"Conner is really in a bind and you may be his only help."
"What's wrong? What can I do?"
"He's failing math. Mister Richards is not budging on this. If he doesn't
get his grade up in the next few weeks, he will have to sit out the rest of
the season."
"Where do I come in?" I asked.
"Would you tutor him after school?" she said, almost pleading. "You are so
good at math. You would be a big help. I know he would appreciate it."
"Then why didn't he ask me?" I replied.
"All you boys are the same. He's too proud to ask for help," she said.
"And besides, he doesn't know I'm doing this."
"Oh," I said, hoping for a better reason.
"Please, Tyler."
"Okay, no problem," I assured. "When does he want to start?"
"As soon as you are ready."
Paige gave me Conner's address and set up our first meeting. I let a few
days pass before going over to his house. He lived about eight blocks from
me. His house was a nice two-story Victorian house. I walked up the
cobblestone walk to the front door. He was already at the door before I
could ring the bell.
"Oh, it's you ... uhm ..."
"Tyler," I said.
"Yeah. Tyler. The gay kid."
"Should I go," I said, sensing his reluctance.
"No, no." he stopped me. "I need the help, and your the smartest guy in
math. C'mon in. I'll be upstairs studying!" he yelled to, I guess, his
mother.
I followed him upstairs to his room, which was typical for a high school
football player. He had several shelves of trophies, team pictures filled
his walls, a few signed footballs were displayed. He had a single bed, a
small desk with a laptop, another small table across from his bed with a
television and game system. He noticed me looking around.
"Stay focused!" he said.
"I will."
We got down to studying. He was really far behind. I had a lot of work to
do. He cooperated completely, knowing his playing days would be limited
otherwise. He often got frustrated at himself, pounding his fists on the
desk, letting out a few choice words. To relax him as we studied, we
shared about ourselves, you know, about family, sports, music, and such
general shit.
"How did you get so far behind?" I asked.
"I got practice, games, friends, internet," he explained.
"Yeah, that can be a problem for me too," I joked.
"What?"
"The internet," I said, giving him a knowing look. "At least once a day!"
"Sometimes twice," he joked back.
We laughed. Did he just let me know he fapped everyday, sometimes twice?
We finally finished studying for the day. He walked me downstairs,
thanking me the whole way. His mother greeted us from the kitchen. A
deep, stern voice came from the livingroom. This startle Conner, making
him flinch a bit.
"Studying hard?" the voice rumbled.
"Yes, sir," was Conner's response.
"You got to make it happen, Conner. Can't afford too drop the ball," his
father counseled.
"I know. I won't drop the ball."
This scene would be played out many more times when I would finish helping
Conner at his house. His father was always concerned, perhaps overly
concerned, with Conner's progress and his position on the team. We
continued to the door. Conner opened the door and followed me out onto the
porch. He took a deep breath. His eyes searched the horizon, hoping, I
think, to find a better life.
"Thanks again," he said.
"I don't mind," I responded. "I enjoy it."
"I'll bet," he said, tussling my hair as I turned and left.
"She broke up with me," Conner said softly.
"What?"
"Ceslee. She dumped me."
"What happened?" I asked.
"I knew it was coming. She's been so flirty with Dillon. How does a
fullback compete with the quarterback?"
"She made a big mistake," I said, hoping to offer some comfort. "You gonna
be alright?"
"Yeah, I'll survive."
"There's someone out there for you, don't worry."
"I know," Conner replied.
Conner and I continued meeting at his house for the next week. He put so
much effort into his studies. I was proud of how committed he was, and
also concerned at the same time if he failed. Our talks continued, each of
us opening up little by little to the other. By the third week's end,
Conner was very relaxed with me around. One day, he studied with no shirt
on. I had a really hard time concentrating! I think Conner knew that, he
teased me the whole time.
Two months into the school year, I was feeling pretty confident. I knew
who I was, and really wanted to quit pretending, living a double life. I
planned on telling my parents one night at dinner. I was confident they
would be accepting of who I was. You ever think something was going to go
one way, but took a totally different path? That's what happened with me
when I stammered after swallowing some dessert, finally telling my parents
and little brother that I was gay.
"What the fuck did you just say?" blurted my father, while my brother
giggled and my mother gasped.
"I ... I ... I'm gay."
"No!" my father said firmly. "The hell you are. You are not gay!"
"Where did we go wrong?" my mother cried.
"It's not your fault, mom," I said. "I am who I am because ... well, just
because."
My father slammed his fork down, and threw himself back in his chair. He
came over to me, lifting me out of my chair by my t-shirt, which had begun
tearing. He had a scary look in his eyes, his face was tight. I could
hear my mother crying to him to let me alone. My little brother had begun
crying because he was getting scared.
"You, are not gay!"
"James, let Tyler go," my mom cried.
"Shut up, Linda!" my father barked, pushing her away. "Say it," he
demanded of me. "Say you are not gay."
"I ... I can't."
I felt a firm blow to the side of my face. Another fist landed on my left
eye. I fell to the floor, hitting my head on the table. I heard cries and
yelling as my mind went blank. I felt a few more blows to my body. Then
all was silent.
I woke up in my bed. My body hurt like hell. I turned my head to the side
to see my little brother staring at me, my mother was behind him. Her face
lit up when my eyes opened. My mouth was dry. I tried to move, but my
body was so achy.
"What ... what happened?" I mumbled.
"You're okay," my mother comforted me.
"I'm thirsty."
Mom quickly left the room to get me some water. My little brother moved in
close to me.
"Man, dad kicked your ass," he said, hugging me like he had never done
before. "I was afraid, Tyler. Afraid he had ..." my little brother
stopped, regaining his composure. "He's in jail now. Mom called the cops
on him."
"I didn't mean for all this to happen."
Mom came back in with water. She stroked her hand in my hair. I fell back
to sleep. I woke up the next morning, and was allowed to miss school. I
stayed in bed and rested. When three o'clock came around, mom poked her
head into the room and asked if I was up to seeing Conner. The past week,
we started alternating where we studied. Today he was due to come over to
my house.
"What the hell happened to you?" Conner asked, entering my room, seeing the
shiner on my eye.
I avoided answering as I climbed out of bed and put on a pair of shorts and
a t-shirt. I joined him at my desk, sitting on his left side. The day was
bright outside. A few butterflies fluttered by the window, dancing around
the blooms that framed it. I opened the books and was about to begin when
he slammed them shut.
"You haven't answered," Conner said.
"It's okay," I said, looking down and away from him.
"No, Tyler. It doesn't look like it's okay. Please, tell me what
happened. That's what friends are for."
"I'm ... your friend?" I asked.
"Of course!" he encouraged, given me a boy hug (you know, arm around
shoulder from the side). "So, come on. Tell me. Who did this?"
"My father."
"What the hell!?" he blurted.
"I tried to tell my parents I was gay. I thought they would be
understanding."
"Oh, shit," Conner sighed. "I'm sorry, Tyler. Parents can be so ..."
"If this is how my dad reacted, what will other people do?"
"Man, that's tough."
"Flies in the face of people who say I just want to be gay," I said.
"Yeah, I'm gay because I like getting beat up."
"What if," Conner said, trying to be helpful, "you tried to change?"
My life danced before my eyes like the butterflies danced among the
flowers. How easy it would be just to change; like putting on a new shirt?
Letting out a sigh, I turned my head slightly so that Conner would not see
the tear that had marked a trail down my left cheek.
"Can a butterfly change back to being a caterpillar? I asked Conner, still
watching out the window.
"Well, no ... no, it can't," he answered.
"Some changes are impossible. But would you torment a butterfly because it
was not a caterpillar? It's a butterfly. It is what it is."
"Doing what a butterfly does," Conner said.
"Yeah. Flitting about, searching for flowers willing to accept it," I said
softly. "It can be hard for a butterfly to find a flower that will open,
allowing it to ... allowing me ..."
"You'll find the right flower," Conner counseled, not realizing it was to
him I was alluding. "You just have to be patient. You seem really strong.
I don't think I could go through what you have to go through."
I smiled a bit. Exhaling softly, I turned my attention to helping Conner
with his math. We didn't talk about much that day. As the days passed,
Conner's confidence grew. He was now doing a lot better in math. I gave
him many mock tests and he did increasingly well each time. He would lay
on his bed staring up at the ceiling, reciting formulas back to me with
ease. He was awesome in so many ways.
(((3)))
"All right, all right," I yelled, running to the front door.
Opening the door, I was very surprised to see Conner. It was Saturday, and
we don't usually do any studying. He smiled at me, and then held up a bag
which had two bottles of soda and a some corn chips. I looked at him a bit
puzzled.
"We have to celebrate!" he beamed.
"You didn't?" I asked.
"I did! I got a passing grade on quarters!"
I lunged at him happily, not thinking of what I was doing. My arms wrapped
around him congratulatory. He was ecstatic. Overwhelmed he tightly hugged
me back. My mom, hearing the commotion, peaked around the corner to see
our embrace. I let go of Conner and turned to her.
"Conner passed!" I said. "All the hard work paid off!"
"Well, fine job!" she said, given me an odd, knowing look.
"I want to show you something," Conner said, pulling me onto the porch.
"C'mon."
All of my questions went unanswered. I walked closely beside Conner, which
was not easy as he was walking with a quick stride. We hustled down the
long street that led to a park. Once there, we followed a path that led
deep into the thicket of trees. Some way in, Conner left the path, pushing
back branches, making his way deeper into the forest. At last, we came
into a clearing.
"Here we are!" Conner said.
"Where is here?" I asked.
Conner pointed upward at a tree. About twenty feet off the ground, was a
formidable sized treehouse. Conner walked over to it. From the bottom of
the treehouse hung a rope. He handed me the bag, taking the rope. In no
time, he scurried up the rope, opening a door in the floor of the
treehouse. Once inside, he unfurled a rope ladder. I climbed up.
"What do you think?" Conner asked.
"It's ... it's ... nice," I replied, a bit puzzled.
"I come here whenever I wanted to get away from all the bullshit of home,
school, and shit. You know ... all the stress."
"And you're sharing it with me?"
"Well, yeah," he said. "It may seem stupid, but I've always liked it here.
No one knows about this place. I wanted to share it with you because you
have shared so much with me."
Conner handed me a soda. Ripping the bag of corn chips open, he offered me
a handful. It was quiet in the treehouse. Only the breeze gently wafting
through the branches could be heard, except when a bird decided to
interrupt the serenity. Beams of sunlight streaked through the branches.
"Thank you for sharing this," I said.
"Thank you for all your help," Conner said, hesitating.
"What?"
"Would you mind if we continued meeting?"
"But you're doing so well," I said to him.
"I am. Thanks to you," he started. "I just want to make sure that I don't
fall behind again. That, and ... well ..."
"What?" I questioned.
"Nothing. I just need the help in math."
Conner turned his head away, looking out one of the windows. I could tell
something was on his mind, but was at odds to know what it was. We sat in
quiet for the next half hour, enjoying nature, enjoying the moment. Having
finished our snack, Conner was first to stand. I stood up next to him.
"Thanks again," he said. "For ... everything, I mean."
An awkwardness developed between us. My actions were being led by my
heart. I moved in to Conner, placing my arms around his waist. Our eyes
locked, he didn't back away or push me away. He brought his arms up to my
waist. I leaned in, our noses almost touching. My lips puckered a little
and leaned closer to his. I could hear his heart pounding wildly in his
chest. The moment was broke when he turned away suddenly.
"No," he blurted. "I'm .. not ... I got to go."
He hurried down the rope ladder. I watched from the window as he
disappeared into the thickness of the trees. I turned and looked around
the treehouse. I noticed a wooden chest in one corner. There was a lock
on it, but it was not locked. I lifted the lid and looked inside. There
were a few books, some porn magazines, a jar of lube, some old rags, and a
notebook.
I thumbed through the pages of the notebook. There was some math problems,
a few pages of notes, and some doodles. These caught my attention. Conner
had several pages of drawings, doodles really, of butterflies and flowers
that were in various stages of bloom. My heart melted when I saw these,
knowing what they meant. It occurred to me that Conner did like me, but
didn't want to deal with what that would mean. I put his stuff back into
the trunk.
Over the next few weeks, Conner seemed to avoid me. He didn't study with
me after school. I was heartbroken, lonely. Even in math class, he didn't
recognize me except in a most cursory manner (like when handing test papers
down the row).
I needed to do something. Fourteen was too young to have a broken heart.
I had found a butterfly cut out and slipped it into Conner's locker hoping
he would remember our talk, think about me. When I went back later that
day, I saw the cut out on the hallway floor just down from his locker. I
went home that day, my chest heavy, crying myself to sleep.
((((4))))
There was a bit of commotion when I arrived to school on a Monday morning.
A group of kids were passing around the school paper ... always hot off
the press every Monday. I pushed my way into the crowd and grabbed one of
the few papers remaining. I turned the paper over. Reading the headline,
my knees weakened under me.
THE HUNT IS OVER!
My eyes scanned the story that followed. Conner had been caught with a
small baggy of pot in his locker. Fortunately, police authorities were
allowing the school to handle the matter. However, the principal on the
advisement of the school board had decided to suspend Conner from playing
the rest of the season along with several weeks of detention.
This must have happened on Thursday because Conner was not in school the
two days prior to the weekend. I searched the hallways between classes
hoping to catch sight of Conner. When math class came around, he was
absent again. I was getting a little worried.
"Has Conner been in contact with you?" asked Daryl, one of the players on
the football team.
"Uhm ... no," I said, pushing my lunch tray away from me. "I haven't heard
from him."
"You're his tutor, right?" he asked. "Paige said you were."
"I was," I said in a whisper. "But, we haven't studied together for a few
weeks."
"Shit," the boy said, looking around the cafeteria, "this isn't like
Conner."
Why did he have to say that? My heart sank a little as my mind retraced
ever thing it could to figure out what may be up. Memories from our first
interactions filled my mind. The embarrassing game at the party, him
defending me, the chats we had while we studied either at his house or
mine, all his questioning about my sexuality and how I dealt with it, the
way we joked with each other, him showing me his secret treehouse.
"Where are you, Conner," I said in a whisper. "What the hell is going on?"
"Mister Tyler Andrews, please report to Principal Ferguson's office.
Mister Tyler Andrews, please report to the principal's office."
The intercom announcement barely ended before a cacophony of jeers and
laughter flooded the dining hall. The only reason a student would be
called to the principal's office was because he was in some deep shit.
Usually, one of the assistant principals took care of discipline problems.
What the hell could he want with me? I hadn't done anything.
I made my way down the hall. As I entered the principal's office, the
secretary motioned me immediately inside. As the door closed behind me, I
recognized the woman sitting in the chair across from the principal's desk.
It was Mrs. Hunt, Conner's mom. She was holding a tissue to her eyes,
drying tears. Mister Ferguson sat on the edge of the desk.
"Ah, Mister Andrews," said the principal. "I believe you know Mrs. Hunt."
I greeted the crying woman and then sat nervously in the chair next to her.
A thousand thoughts flooded my mind. The silence hung heavy. I
fidgeted with my fingers, shifting nervously in my chair.
"You're not in any trouble," Mister Ferguson assured me. "Mrs. Hunt is
here because she believes Conner has run away from home. He didn't come
home last night."
"Please," Mrs. Hunt cried. "If you know anything, anything at all."
"I ... I ... don't know where ... I mean, I haven't really talked to him
since ..."
"Yes," said Mrs. Hunt. "He was bothered that you two had a fight or
something."
"What happened, Mrs. Hunt," the principal interrupted. "Did anything
happen at home that might have caused your son to run away?"
"I know he was upset because he was suspended from the team. He loves
football. I know he took that hard."
"He does love football," I informed the principal. "I was tutoring him in
math so he could stay on the team."
That's when I remembered how his father was always on him about staying on
the team. I could hear his father's stern voice in my head. How that
whole situation made Conner really nervous. Like he was afraid to
disappoint his father.
"I don't want to intrude," I spoke up.
"No, what is it?" replied Mrs. Hunt.
"How did Mr. Hunt take the news about Conner's suspension from the team?"
"I don't know. I was at an exercise class when my husband came home. He
travels a lot in his job. He got in Sunday afternoon. When I got home,
Conner had left. I thought he went to a friend's house. Now that I think
about it, my husband was acting distant that night."
"Has," I started, and then hesitated. "Has Mr. Hunt ever hit Conner?"
Mrs. Hunt looked into the tissue folded in her hands on her lap. Some more
tears swelled in her eyes. Her silence, her hesitation clearly answered
the question.
"He's a good man," she defended. "He gets stressed from his job. He only
wants the best for Conner."
"Mrs. Hunt," the principal asked sternly. "Has your husband ever hit your
son?"
"Yes," she said softly.
"Abusively?" the principal continued.
"He never meant to hurt Conner," Mrs. Hunt broke down into tears.
"Thank you, Tyler," Mister Ferguson said to me as he picked up the phone.
"Ms. Jackson, get me the police."
I shut the door quietly behind me. Walking past Ms. Jackson's desk, I saw
her dialing the police as instructed. I held back my tears. My heart
broke for Conner. He is such a wonderful person. How could a father abuse
his son ... over football? My body shivered stressfully as I thought of my
own dad beating me when I broke the news of being gay. He must be feeling
that same stress.
Stress.
Like a bolt of lightening, I knew where Conner was. Although school still
had a few more hours before the day would be over, I ran out the front
doors. I retrieved my bicycle and pedaled off in the direction of the
park. Conner went to his treehouse, his secret treehouse, when he was
stressed.
I couldn't pedal fast enough. Several times my feet rolled off the pedals.
I hastily recovered and continued, speeding past stop signs and through
stoplights. From our many talks, I know he had been through a lot. I was
sure he had to be there.
I raced through the park and past the 'no bicycles' sign onto the dirt path
that led into the woods. Trying to spot familiar landmarks, I skidded to a
stop. Letting my bike fall to the ground, I ran into the thicket of trees.
Wanting to get to the treehouse, I was hit severely in the face, an arm,
and right on my junk by branches that jutted out in this direction and
that.
Finally, I came into the clearing!
(((((5)))))
To my horror, I saw Conner sitting on a limb of the tree, one that
supported his treehouse. Tied around the branch was a rope, its end was
wrapped around Conner's neck. Conner sat on the branch, shoulders
slouched, staring into his lap. He must have heard me running, because he
looked up at me sadly.
"Why did you come?" he asked softly.
"Why?" I questioned, trying to catch my breadth.
Conner looked down at me. I could see on the ground, he had cut up his
football jacket. His feet dangled. He looked up at the treetops,
breathing in deeply.
"What's the use?" he asked. "I played football ..."
"I know," I interrupted. "You love football."
"No," he said plainly, shaking his head. "I played because my dad loved
football."
"Shit," I said, realizing Conner was, like me, living a secret life.
"Please meet me in the treehouse ... so we can talk."
"Why?" he scoffed.
"Because," I said, raw emotion swelling in me, "because, I love you."
I went over to the rope ladder and climbed it cautiously. I begged Conner
again to come into the treehouse. I needed to talk to him. To my relief,
he loosened the noose about his neck and slid over the branch and came into
the treehouse. I gasped as I saw Conner close up. My bruises were nothing
compared to his.
"Your father do that?" I asked.
Conner nodded. I scooted over and sat next to him. To comfort him, I put
my arm around his shoulder. He leaned his head into chest, and started to
cry. I rocked him a while, letting him vent fully his emotions. He
finally wiped his eyes and nose with his left hand.
"Must think I'm weird," he said looking up at me.
"I don't," I assured him. "Life makes me cry sometimes too."
"You said you love me," Conner said. "I have heard that a lot from people.
But I always suspected it was not me, but what I was, they loved."
"Not me," I added. "I love you no matter what balls you play with."
We both laughed and then stretched against one of the walls. I allowed him
to relax in the silence that enveloped between us. I reached my hand over,
and placed it on top of his. I squeezed his hand firmly, a show of
encouragement. He sniffed a few times, wiping his eyes.
"What will happen now?" Conner asked.
"Before I left the principal's office," I started.
"What were you ... "
"Your mom was there trying to find out where you might be. During our
talk, she let it out that your dad was physically abusive to you. When I
was leaving, Ferguson was getting the police involved. I think your dad's
going to be away for a while."
"Damn," Conner responded. "But that's not what I meant."
"Huh?"
"I meant, what will happen with us?" he asked raising our bonded hands.
I smiled. He firmly squeezed my hand back.
"Can I be honest?" I asked.
"Of course."
"When you ran out of here a few weeks ago before we actually ... you know.
Well, I saw the trunk over there and looked through it."
"Oh," he said. "You found my porn and shit?"
"Yes," I said. "But even more, I found a notebook with pictures drawn in
it."
I went over to the chest and took out the notebook. I flipped to the pages
that had the pictures of the butterflies and flowers in various stages of
bloom. I turned the notebook to him. He looked up at me.
"You recognized it?" he asked.
"How long after our talk did you do these?"
"Shit, the next couple of days in class."
"That's the real reason you were avoiding me. Because if you avoided me,
you wouldn't have to face ..." I stopped. I then pointed at the page.
"Which flower is you? I mean right now."
Conner swallowed hard. To point to a particular flower would be to admit
he had feelings for me. He raised his finger to the page, letting it fall
on a full bloom.
"You know, flowers close at night. I think I was living in the night, and
it's hard to see when it'a dark. I was not admitting to myself who I was
and was not. But I think the daylight has come. I see it now. Clearly."
"What do you see?" I asked.
Conner looked into my eyes, into my soul. He scooted next to me and
wrapped his arms around me. Our hearts beat together, thumping a song all
their own. He pulled me close to him. He moved in, pressing his lips
against mine. I wrapped my arms around him as we laid back onto the wooden
floor of the treehouse.
I was lost in a world that knew only love, and shared it willingly with
this beautiful boy. His mouth opened and our tongues met, playfully poking
and swirling around each other. Our saliva mixed, allowing us to become
intoxicated by the taste of love. Our hands caressed each other's body.
He ran his hands through my long hair. He broke the kiss, looking at me.
"Thank you," he whispered, "for being patient with me and not flitting off
to another flower."
"You knew I was talking about you?"
"Yeah," he confessed. "Or, at least, I hoped."
We laughed a little. Holding our embrace, we kiss each other passionately.
He moved to different areas of my face; kissing my forehead, nibbling on
my earlobe. My body was alive for the first time in my young life. I was
comfortable, I was happy.
"Someone's getting worked up," Conner said, rubbing his hand over my crotch.
"You would be fulfilling a dream," I said.
"You think about me when you're ..."
"Yep."
"Well, since we're being honest, I have fantasized about you too."
"Make love to me," I whispered.
I stood up. I reached down and pulled up the bottom of my t-shirt,
removing it. Conner moved closer and kissed my bare belly. He swirled his
tongue in my bellybutton. I reached down and pulled off his t-shirt. As
his arms lifted, I could see wisps of hair in his pits. I lowered myself
to my knees and kissed one and then the other nipple. My hands rubbed his
bare shoulders and back. Our lips locked again.
While our tongues danced, Conner's hands moved to the button that secured
my pants. He unfastened them, then unzipped the zipper. He pushed my
pants down to just below my butt. His hands caressed my young, tight ass
through my boxer-briefs. He squeezed my ass cheeks as our kissing
continued.
I undid his pants, pushing them down. My hands explored his butt through
the softness of his boxers. I ran my hands over his junk, his dick was
rigid and begging for attention. He moved his hands to my dick, running
his fingers along the length of the shaft. I broke our kiss this time.
"Let's get naked," I suggested.
We both stood up and slid our pants completely off. Conner stopped to
watch as I grabbed my boxer-briefs and slid them to my ankles. My 6.5"
dick sprang forward, cum already dripping out of the tip.
"Damn," Conner said, flashing me a sexy smile. "You're beautiful."
I was in love. Conner easily pushed his boxers to his ankles, stepping out
of them. Physically, he was stunning. His member was hard as steel,
standing at an angle, pointing upward. It looked to be around 6". It was
not like mine, as foreskin covered the head. He had a nice bush of dark
brown hair above it and to the sides. His ballsac hung about three inches.
"You're more beautiful than I could ever imagine."
We came together in an embrace, our lips once again finding the other. Our
hands now explored our naked bodies. Nothing would ever be the same
between us. We were both entering uncharted territory. I, for my part,
was enjoying every moment. I only wished I knew how to slow time down.
I moved from kissing Conner, to my knees. His dick was inches from my
mouth. I moved closer and licked his shaft. I nibbled a little at his
ballsac. Returning to his dick, licked the tip of his foreskin, allowing
my tongue to swirl in the opening. He reached down and pulled the skin
back. The mushroom head was soon exposed. I took his member into my
mouth. My hands reached around and caressed his ass.
I bobbed my head back and forward, his dick entering and exiting my mouth.
He ran his hands in my hair, spreading his legs slightly. I loved the
feeling of his spongy rod in my mouth. He began rocking his hips to match
the rhythm of my head.
"Oh, yes," he moaned pleasurably.
I wanted little more than to please Conner. I loved him. I wanted him to
enjoy every moment. My tongue swirled around his dick, my mouth applied
suction. Each time his dick disappeared into my mouth, my nose was tickled
by his pubic hair. I loved the smell of his boyfunk.
Conner now held me head still and was thrusting his dick in and out of my
mouth. My hands were on his ass, so I could feel his ass cheeks tightening
and relaxing with each thrust. He finally stopped, thrusting his dick
completely into my mouth. I then tasted his warm boyseed. His dick spit
three strings of nut. I swallowed all he gave, wanting more.
Conner withdrew his still hard cock. He knelt in front of me and kissed
me. He then helped me back so that I was laying on my back. His attention
turned to my 6.5", begging for his love. He hesitated, and then wrapped
his lips around my member, following what I had just done. His mouth was
warm, his demeanor gentle. Slowly he went down and then back, taking in
nearly all of my dick. His right hand massaged my balls as he worked up
and down my tool.
I was nearing orgasm quickly, having waited a lifetime for this moment. My
hips bucked, my heart beat heavily in my chest. I arched my back, my dick
exploding into my lovers mouth. He swallowed as much as he could. A lot
of my nut spilled out the sides of his mouth. He smiled to me. I looked
down at him lovingly. He licked the cum from my shaft and around my balls.
He crawled up to me, laying on top of me so that our dicks pressed
together. He kissed me again. I didn't want this to end. I moved toward
his ear and whispered that I wanted him to be my first. He lifted his
head, our eyes locked. I smiled to assure him that I wanted it, I wanted
him to make love to me.
He went to the chest and got the jar of lube. He coated his beautiful dick
liberally. When he came back over to me, I lifted my legs (as I had seen
in a lot of the porn I watched) to give him access to my hairless, pink
pucker. As he knelt between my legs, I let my legs rest on his shoulders.
He pointed the head of his rod at my hole, pressing the tip against it
firmly. There was resistance, a lot of resistance. Conner struggled for
several minutes negotiating his dick against my virgin asshole. Finally,
my hole widened and the head of his dick was swallowed. I sucked in as a
sharp pain struck through me.
"Are you okay?" he asked, concerned.
I reached up and brought his face down to mine. I kissed him in way to let
him know that this is what I wanted. In my experimenting with different
objects while fapping, I knew to expect this. I told Conner to hold steady
for a moment to let my ass get used to his dick. Once it did, his dick
would sink right in.
After about a minute, that is exactly what happened. Conner pushed softly
as his dick planted itself completely in my hole. I could feel the entire
girth and length fill my ass. My own dick was rock hard again. His pubic
hairs pressed against my ballsac. We laid motionless for a few moments,
our lips pressed against each other.
Laying on top of me, he gently pulled his dick back and then allowed it to
sink back in. He took his time. I could tell he had experience here.
Well, not in making love to a boy, but making love in general. He had
developed his own way of going about it. Not too fast. He was allowing
the both of us to enjoy every moment of the experience.
In. Out. In. Out.
His dick slid the length of my ass, my ass swallowed the length of his
dick. He continued slowly, lovingly grinding my boy hole. A string of cum
dripped from my dick onto my tummy. Our breathing was getting heavy.
Beads of sweat formed on his brow. I looked into my lover's dark eyes as
he was caught up in the moment. He smiled back at me, leaned down and
kissed me so passionately, so real.
My mind was dizzying from the feelings my body was sending it. Conner
propped himself on his arms that were on both sides of me. His hips now
began moving his dick in and out of my hole a little faster. He paused
each time he sunk his member in my hole. He bit gently on his bottom lip.
"Fuck," he stammered, unable to speak clearly. "This is so fucking
awesome. You're so awesome."
I looked down and was able to see a little as his his dick appeared and
then disappeared into my ass. Conner was now slamming his dick in and out
of my boycunt. I knew he was getting near. Very near. Thrusting his dick
deep inside me, I could feel it begin to spasm as it flooded my young ass
with his hot nut.
He collapsed on top of me. His heart beat wildly, his breathing was deep.
I ran my hands through his hair, holding him close as I did not want this
moment to end. He turned his head to me, looking deep into my eyes. He
kissed the tip of my nose.
"I love you," he whispered.
"I have always loved you, from the very first time I saw you," I said.
We spent the next hour or so making love. He made love to me again, and
let me make love to him. Exhausted, we put our clothes back on. We sat
across from each other, our hands unable to keep to themselves. My ass
tingled with delight. My heart beat with new-found love. We kissed each
other between every word.
"This feels so right. We will strengthen each other," Conner said.
"What?"
"We are butterflies. We must be butterflies, and take strength from that,"
he said mysteriously. "We have to be who we are, and who we are not."
"I know ... but ..."
"I," Conner said, standing dramatically, "am not a football player. I will
not pretend to be. I am in love with another boy. I will not pretend to
be otherwise."
Conner got his stuff together and we walked back to his house. He invited
me to come inside for a moment. His mom threw her arms around her son. It
was touching to watch. He then told his mother about him being a
butterfly. She looked at me, and took us both into an embrace.
We walked to my house and we went into the kitchen where my mother was
making dinner. I asked if Conner could stay. I then introduced him as my
boyfriend.
"I know," my mom said. "I could see it in both you boy's eyes. I just
wasn't sure when you would know it."
The next day, I met Conner in the main lobby as he instructed. A lot of
people had gathered around asking him about the details of his last few
days. He confessed he was overwhelmed by things happening to him and
turned to pot to find some relief. The relief was found, he said, in a
little butterfly. The crowd was unsure what he meant. That is when he
pulled me to himself and introduced me as his boyfriend to the onlookers.
He even kissed me quickly (kissing is even against school policy for
girl/boy couples).
Some students accepted, some didn't. We didn't care. Some new couples
became visible. There were more gay students than I thought. Conner and I
remained a couple throughout our highschool years. Being a year ahead of
me, he graduated (with honors!) first. He had received scholarship
opportunities to go to several prestigious universities. He invited me
over to tell me of his plans. I entered his room a little nervous.
"So, which one did you decide," I asked sadly.
"Central Community College," he said.
"What? What about the universities ..."
"I can't leave you," he interrupted. "They will hold my scholarship a
year, and then we can go together. I don't ever want us to be apart."
"Oh, Conner! I love you so much!" I said, hugging him, kissing him.
"You are my little butterfly," he whispered as we sunk back onto his bed.
"You freed me from my cocoon of uncertainty. I'm forever yours."
(THE END)